A Horse of His Own
by TYRider
Summary: Merlin didn't actually mind mucking out Arthur's horses. In fact, he often found himself wishing he had a horse of his own. Arthur decides it's time that Merlin got just that. For the king's convenience, of course, and definitely not because he knew how happy it would make his manservant. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I finally wrote it!**

Merlin actually didn't mind mucking out Arthur's horses. As far as dung went, horse apples weren't that bad.

The stables were always a peaceful place, quiet and calm. It was somewhere Merlin could go to get away without actually being alone. Horses made surprisingly good company. They were also great listeners. Every velvet ear would prick and swivel in the warlock's direction whenever he spoke.

Merlin liked the horses and they seemed to like him were especially appreciative of any sweets he managed to nick from Cook. Their soft muzzles and agile lips nuzzled his hands for the treats.

Merlin hadn't always been fond of horses. In fact, when he had first arrived in Camelot, the terrified him, intimidated by their size. Coming from a poor village—literally a one horse town—he had never actually interacted with the creatures let alone ridden one.

But it didn't take long for them to win him over. With their big dark eyes, natural gentleness, and intelligent nature, it was hard not to like them. Plus, once Arthur had shown him the ropes of riding and caring for the gentle giants, things had come rather naturally.

Another reason Merlin liked horses so much was because of their acceptance of his magic. They watched with rapt attention whenever he performed a little trick just for them. Of course, Gaius would kill him if he ever found out.

Smirking to himself about his memories, Merlin entered the stable. He whistled lowly, a particular tune he only used to call the horses. A chorus of happy nickers and whinnies greeted him. He quickly made his rounds, doling out biscuits, taking a moment to visit with each horse.

Arthur's big bay stallion, Markus, and Gwaine's bay mare, Molly, were two of Merlin's favorites. He slipped them each an extra sweet. Both horses were a bit like their owners. One was majestic and proud, a little withdrawn and haughty, serious but oddly eager to be amused. The other, the mare, was a bit on the vain side and always up to mischief, breaking out of her stall and into the feed room or taking a deep breath before saddling so her girth would be too loose later. Molly had a taste for mead, too, like her master.

Merlin made sure that all of the horses had hay to munch on before he settled on top of a bale. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

Sometimes Merlin wished he had his own horse. He was a servant, well aware of how lucky he was to have a horse provided for him to ride at all. Normally he rode whatever horse was free when Arthur needed him to ride out, usually one belonging to an off duty knight or a spare they kept around for visiting nobility.

Merlin didn't mind, really, he didn't. It was just… it would be nice to have a horse of his own to care for and spoil. It would be nice to always ride out on the same horse, to form a bond, another relationship. Merlin was always desperate for any sort of constant he could have in his often tumultuous life.

He sighed, standing up. Arthur had ordered him to prepare one of the empty stalls on top of his normal mucking and feeding duties. The royal stables would be getting a new addition today, apparently.

There was an added pep in his step as he went about his task. New horses were always exciting. He wondered what color it would be—probably bay judging by Arthur's track record. Would it be a mare or a stallion? Tall or short? What sort of temperament would it have and what treats would be its favorites?

So lost in thought, was Merlin, that he didn't notice when Arthur walked into the stable. The king sauntered over to the stall Merlin was preparing and folded his arms, leaning a shoulder against the doorway.

"Morning, Merlin," he drawled. "Almost finished, I see."

Merlin nearly jumped in surprise but caught himself. He finished spreading the last of the straw on the earthen floor before turning around to meet Arthur. "All done, actually," he said with a smile, brushing his hands off on the front of his trousers.

"Wonderful," Arthur said with a smile that was equal parts pleased and mischievous.

"When does the new horse arrive?" Merlin inquired curiously.

"Well," Arthur began slowly, smothering his smile and speaking with forced casualness, "you have to pick it out first."

Merlin blinked, momentarily rendered speechless as Arthur just grinned.

"What?" he finally managed to stutter out.

Arthur sighed. "And you call me thick."

"You want me to pick out a horse for… who exactly?" the raven haired boy asked slowly, forcing down the hope that was building.

"For you, _Merlin_," Arthur said with exasperation and just a touch of fondness. When Merlin still seemed to be struggling, Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's about time you had your own horse."

Merlin was about to protest but closed his mouth again when Arthur held up his hand.

"It isn't very convenient, always trying to find you a mount, and some of the knights don't like sharing," the kind explained. "Besides, if you keep spoiling _my _horse, Merlin, I'll have to let out his girth."

Merlin sheepishly grinned. "It's not my fault he's so much like his master," he said cheekily, pointing out the relatively new hole on Arthur's belt.

Arthur glared and cuffed Merlin on the back of the head. "Oh, shut up, idiot," he said but his tone was fond. "Let's go find your horse."

Merlin still couldn't believe it as Arthur led him through the lower town, out into one of the fields beyond. Several horse traders had come to set up shop in a sort of bazaar.

There were all kinds of horses. Some gray, many brown and bay, with the occasional black or gold horse standing out in the crowd. A few of the horses' backs were well over Merlin's head while most were at a less daunting shoulder height.

Merlin giggled suddenly when he noticed a truly tiny horse, obviously fully grown but no higher than his waist. It watched him with curious brown eyes fringed by a thick, coppery forelock. Pausing, Merlin ruffled its mane.

"You can have any one but that one, Merlin," Arthur said, eying the diminutive animal. "I need something for you to ride, not just coddle."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, sire," he said, managing to make the respectful reply sound anything but. He moved on through the sea of horse flesh.

"What about this one?" Arthur asked, patting the neck of a dark gray mare, missing the way she switched her tail back and forth in mild annoyance. "Looks steady enough. I imagine even you could manage her." He pointed out the mare's swaying back, a clear indicator of old age and years of use. Her ears were pointed back and to the side mulishly.

Merlin scowled. He was a perfectly good rider, thank you, and he didn't need a witchy old nag to babysit him.

"I do prefer bays, though," Arthur mused, stepping away from the mare and going back to browsing.

"I hadn't noticed," Merlin quipped.

Arthur shot him a quick glare before stopping a huge bay beast of a horse, its black mane and tail clipped unusually short, its ears, Merlin noted, were pinned back in obvious displeasure.

"Not my type," Merlin quickly said without pausing.

"Oh, so you have a type now, Merlin?"

"I prefer horses with pleasant personalities for some reason, yeah." Merlin kept walking. Every once in a while he stopped to scratch a horse under its jaw or behind its ears.

"We don't have all day," Arthur younger man ignored his friend, choosing to continue on, weaving in and out of the mass of people and horses with a little more purpose. He was looking for a spark, a special connection with one of the horses.

On the fringe of the field were a few horses standing idly by themselves, drawing no buyers. But one horse caught Merlin's attention.

A bay stallion stood calmly to the side, watching the goings on curiously. He wasn't very impressive; his coat was a mahogany brown with black mane, tail, and legs. His hair was scruffy, unkempt. He lacked muscle and his ribs were faintly visible even from this distance. None of that was what attracted Merlin. It was the kind, unusually intelligent chocolate eye that had fixed suddenly and unwaveringly on the raven haired boy, there was a spark there, that connection Merlin had wanted. He was drawn to the horse.

Grinning, Merlin pushed his way through the crowd to the stallion, its gaze never wavering from his. A pair of black-tipped ears swiveled and fixed on him, a soft, almost hopeful nicker rumbled out of the horse's throat.

"That?" Arthur asked incredulously as he tracked Merlin's gaze. "That one? Merlin, you can't be serious."

Merlin just threw Arthur a grin over his shoulder. "That one," he said with certainty.

Arthur groaned but followed Merlin anyway.

On closer inspection, the horses wasn't too bad. They approached him from his left side. He was built well, Arthur noted, with fine bone structure clear in spite of the obvious neglect. A short, strong back, long, straight legs, and a deep chest. His neck and head were refined, handsome even. A fine horse, actually, which puzzled the king. Maybe Merlin really had found a diamond in the rough. The horse was young, too, just old enough to have some experience, and he was standing quietly, much better behaved than many of the others.

But then… why was it over here? Why was it with the horses marked for slaughter?

Merlin had disappeared around the other side of the horse. Arthur could hear him murmuring soothing words to the beast like some little kid's nanny. The animal had its head turned to wrap around Merlin, to nuzzle his pockets.

"Merlin," Arthur began, walking around to his manservant but he froze.

It was missing an eye. The horse, its right eye was just… gone, a dark, sunken, fur-covered hole visible in its place.

"You don't want this one," Arthur said, recovering from his shock.

"Why not?" Merlin asked, brow creasing as his face went from sporting a smile to a frown.

Arthur pointed to the sunken place where an eye should have been. "It's only got one eye, Merlin," he said slowly, cautiously.

Merlin didn't flinch or seem startled or surprised. He just kept rubbing one hand up and down the bridge of the horse's nose, the other resting on its shoulder. "So?" he asked, an edge poorly concealed in the word, a bit of a challenge.

"It's only good for dog meat, Merlin. It's hardly fir for riding with just one eye. It'll spook at everything," the blond said. "Now, come on and I'll help you find a decent horse."

"No."

"What?" Arthur asked slowly, his frown deepening.

"I want this one." Merlin's voice was so sincere, so sure.

"Merlin," Arthur started but never got the chance to continue.

"No, you listen, he's a good horse. Just because some one is different or damaged doesn't mean you just throw them away. Please Arthur," Merlin all but begged.

Arthur sighed, running a hand across his face. "Fine. Fine, but when he spooks, if he becomes a danger," he warned, "he'll be going."

Merlin grinned, triumphant.

The horse, which had been following the conversation with its ears flicking from Arthur to Merlin and back again, seemed to relax, sighing. His head drooped a little and he leaned into Merlin's touch.

Arthur flicked his gaze heavenward before he quickly sought out the trader and paid him, returning with a halter and lead rope for Merlin's new horse. "Here," he said gruffly. "Hurry up, we've got to get your useless horse to the stables.

Smiling, Merlin followed Arthur back towards the castle.

"What is it?" the king asked, annoyed.

"'My horse,'" Merlin repeated, beyond happy. "I have a horse."

**A/N: I noticed that the horse Merlin rides in s3e8 only has one eye. I have a soft spot for one-eyed horses since one of my own horses had to have his right eye removed due to cancer (it doesn't bother him in the least!). Anyway, that's why I just had to write this when the plot bunny bit me. This is my first Merlin fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are wonderful! I have an epilogue in mind that I'll post if anyone is interested. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am so shocked and awed by the response to this story! First off, thank you all for the encouraging reviews, favorites, and alerts! They are what got me to continue this story. Secondly, since a could of y'all asked, I'm going to try making this a multi chapter fic instead of just a oneshot with a prologue. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to go with it but I do have an idea. I hope you all like it.**

**Next, in response to a couple of the reviews: One-eyed horses can do anything a horse with two eyes can. That includes galloping, jumping, trail riding, the works. Koda, my one-eyed horse is the calmest most trustworthy horse I've ever ridden (and I've ridden a lot). He has never spooked while I'm riding him. He does tend to put a lot of trust in me and I do have to be careful when guiding him near obstacles he can't see.**

**Back to the author's note... this chapter is mostly just filler, setting the scene for what's to come. I still hope you enjoy it though. Oh, and I want to warn you that updates may (probably will) be irregular. I'm coaching a 4-H horse quiz bowl team and an FFA horse judging team on top of day to day life. Enough of that, y'all don't want to hear about me! On to the story!**

"So, what are you going to name him?" Gwaine asked, apple in hand, falling into stride with Merlin and Arthur as soon as they entered the citadel.

"You knew?" Merlin asked, peering around Arthur to give the knight a quizzical look.

Gwaine grinned around a mouthful of apple. "Of course," he said. "Someone had to give the princess here the idea." He clapped a glaring Arthur on the shoulder.

Merlin smirked.

"Gwaine may have pointed out that it was inconvenient for you to always be sharing horses, but it was my idea to get you one of your own," the king defended.

Gwaine rolled his eyes and flipped his hair. "Sure." He took a bite of his apple. "But what are you going to name it?" he asked again.

They were just approaching the stables, Merlin and his new horse taking the lead as they entered.

"I haven't thought of a name yet. I've only had him for all of five minutes," Merlin said with a laugh.

"Well, he can't just go without a name now, can he?"

"I think he can make it a day or two without a proper name," Arthur interceded.

"Says the man that named his first horse Sir Horse," Merlin said under his breath.

Gwaine roared with laughter, doubling over. Folding his arms over his chest, Arthur alternated between glaring daggers at Merlin and Gwaine.

Ignoring his two friends, Merlin led his horse calmly into its new stall next to Gwaine's Molly. He walked the horse through the door and turned him around, letting him see his new accommodations.

"Whoa," Gwaine said with wide eyes as he caught his first glimpse of the right side of Merlin's horse and his missing eye. "Merlin, I hate to break it to you but your horse has only got one eye."

Merlin grinned. "I know."

"You knew this before you bought him?"

"I told him," Arthur cut in. "And the first mistake this horse makes and he's going right back."

"He's a good horse," Merlin protested. "You can tell." He ran a hand down the bay's face, straightening his ebony forelock.

"He may not be much to look at and he may not have a lot to use to look with," Gwaine said slowly with a growing grin, "but he does seem nice, and if I've ever met someone with a way with horses, it's you, Merlin. If you say he's good, I'm inclined to believe you."

Arthur made some discontented grumbling noises but didn't voice them.

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin said warmly, grin stretching from ear to ear.

"He gets one test ride," Arthur declared. "We'll see how he does."

"I'm sure he'll do fine, mate," Gwaine assured, bumping shoulder with the younger boy.

* * *

The test ride came sooner than Merlin had expected. He was in the stall, working the tangles out of his horse's thick tail the next day when Aurthur came striding in. Merlin looked up, expecting a long list of chores; typical Aurthur to have to ruin doing something by being a prat the next day.

"If this is about your armor," Merlin began.

Arthur cut him off with a raised hand. "Saddle up."

Merlin blinked owlishly for a moment, comprehension coming slowly.

"You said he'd be a fine mount," Arthur said, running a critical eye over the one-eyed bay. Merlin's TLC had made a considerable difference already. The coat, though still long, was clean with a little bit of luster, and his mane and tail were free of debris and snares. The dark eye held a little more sparkle, the ears a little more alert. Food and attention obviously suited him well. "If you're so confident, let's prove it. I wanted to go hunting anyway, this will the perfect test."

Merlin swallowed, exchanging a look with his horse. Then, slowly, a grin began to spread across his face. "Alright. Challenge excepted." He pushed past Aurthur to exit the stall and fetch the older saddle that Arthur had given him.

Now alone with the creature that had so instantly secured his manservant's trust and affection, Arthur approached it and patted its neck. "Merlin's an idiot," he said, scowling at the dark doe eye that blinked back at him, "but I hope he's right this time. It'd be a first, of course," he added a little gruffly, "but if you hurt him, you won't be long for this world. Understand?" The horse simply blinked again. "Good. Now, breathe a word of this to anyone and I'll run you through myself."

"What?"

"Nothing," Arthur said, quickly stepping away from the horse and turning to face Merlin as he suddenly appeared.

Merlin smirked. "Sure."

"Just saddle the stupid horse, Merlin."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I hope you like this chapter! Not much action, I'm afraid, but that's coming up! Enjoy!**

Things went smoothly. Merlin's new steed stood perfectly still as his owner tacked him up, ears merely flicking here and there to follow the young man's movements with mild curiosity. Merlin tightened the girth on his new saddle with ease and no unwanted shenanigans. The bit was even accepted without any resistance.

When Merlin led the stallion out of the stables to where Aurthur and Gwaine were waiting on their own mounts, the three horses simply sniffed noses. It wasn't unusual for horses to stomp their hooves and squeal and bite and kick out when meeting a new horse. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was amazing that nothing but breath was exchange during the equine introductions.

Gwaine was grinning fit to split his face open. He let out a hearty laugh, patting the neck of his mare. "Well, would you look at that," he crowed. "That looks a heck of a lot like a saddle on that horses back," he declared, elbowing Arthur, who was looking increasingly surly. "Hand it over," the knight demanded with what was undeniably glee.

Arthur, glaring daggers at Merlin, Merlin's horse, and Gwaine, pulled the full-to-bursting pouch of coins off of his belt. He tossed it haphazardly to Gwaine.

Gwaine, with greater dexterity than anyone would guess the often drunk knight capable of, snatched the purse out of the air with a jangle.

"You two took bets?" Merlin asked, eyebrows arching. He worked hard to keep the corners of his lips from raising upward, trying to distract himself by fiddling with the throatlatch strap on his horse's bridle.

"The princess, here, bet you wouldn't be able to saddle him. Said he fancied the odds of you wrangling your new horse into a saddle were fifty to one." Gwaine tossed his new purse of coins up in the air once before securing it to his own belt. "I rather liked those odds." For a brief moment, the knight looked thoughtful, a little more serious. "You know, mate, the odds seem often in your favor." His look turned nearly questioning.

Merlin laughed the comments off easily, though he did make a mental note to be careful around Gwaine. The knight might not show it often, but he was pretty observant.

Muttering under his breath, the king turned his mount sharply away. "You've got him saddled, now get on. We don't have all day." The grumbling continued as Arthur spurred his horse into a trot toward the city gate.

"Better not keep the princess waiting, mate," cautioned Gwaine.

Merlin tossed the reins over his horse's ears and moved to stand on his left side. Gathering the reins and a handful of black mane into his left hand, Merlin put his foot into the stirrup and mounted in one smooth, practiced motion. He braced himself. Nothing happened. Merlin could feel the big bay beneath him, relaxed and breathing evenly. No crazed bucking or tensed muscles or galloping off at a breakneck pace. Not that Merlin had really expected any of that. Well, maybe a little bit.

Even some of the best horses could be edgy on their first ride after an extended vacation, and as far as anyone knew, Merlin's horse had never been ridden at all. Merlin knew next to nothing about the animal really, other than the fact that the creature seemed intelligent and kind. And there was something about him that drew Merlin's attention and had been holding it all this time, some ineffable quality.

If Merlin had his way it would be weeks before he rode his new horse. He would have preferred to take things slowly, spending time working with the creature until he better knew the stallion and knew what he knew, understood his quirks. What Arthur was doing by demanding that the test take place now was the equestrian equivalent of throwing Merlin and his horse both into a deep lake, strapped together with unknown amounts of baggage attached and seeing if they could somehow swim and not get each other killed.

But really, with how smoothly things had been going, Merlin should have felt relief, should have been able to relax a little as his horse fell into an easy rhythm between Markus and Molly. Instead, Merlin was getting more and more tense _because_ things were going smoothly. Things never went this smoothly. Things only went this well, in Merlin's experience, before they went completely, terribly, _horribly_ wrong.


End file.
